


A Lover's Complaint

by StarsEncrusted



Series: Nightmare after-stories [3]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27101377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsEncrusted/pseuds/StarsEncrusted
Summary: Nightmare after-story number 3.
Series: Nightmare after-stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997908
Comments: 27
Kudos: 39





	1. The Hidden Message

I stare at the decrypter in front of me. The following words appear on the screen:

**Turn the scroll upside down.**

The decrypted message is actually another clue!

I immediately turn the scroll upside down.

Nothing happens.

But I don't feel discouraged. After all, now I know that physically moving the scroll is the key to unlocking the hidden message.

MC: ...

Back when Solomon gave me this list, didn't we talk about Reflections?

I dash to the bathroom's mirror (which is finally no longer opaque), turn the scroll upside down, and look at its reflection in the mirror.

MC: !

The mirrored writing on the scroll is shifting, changing into unfamiliar letters.

No, they almost seem familiar. My vision is getting blurry. Ugh, I think my translator charm is going into overdrive...!

Those letters are forming the words. From the jumble of ancient, dead languages, new sentences emerge.

Abruptly, my vision comes into focus, and I stare at the clear writing in front of me.

Finally, I can read Solomon's hidden message!

I lean forward hungrily.

MC: ...

It's... a poem. A rather old-fashioned, narrative poem, titled "A Lover's Complaint."

This poem tells a story of a young woman, who was pursued, then seduced, then proposed to by her lover.

Then, when things were already heading to the altar, her lover cheated on her.

MC: ...

(I... have a very bad feeling about this.)

However, even after his betrayal was discovered, her lover didn't want to break up with her. Instead, that cheater, who was a glib talker, attempted to coax the young woman with honeyed words.

He said that it was a momentary lapse of judgement, that he wanted to bind his life to hers for eternity, that he would never again cause her to doubt him, that he loved her more than anything else in the world, that he would definitely make her happy, that she was the most important person to him, et cetera.

The young woman, angered by his betrayal, said that she no longer believed his words.

In response, the cheater said that he will do anything to prove himself to her.

" **Anything**?" she said.

"Yes, anything," the cheater replied.

(I have a very, **very** bad feeling about this...!)

And so the young woman has given him a number of tasks that were **impossible to fulfill**.

MC: ?!

The most terrifying part comes afterwards. It's the refrain where the young woman makes it clear that if her lover fails to fulfill **even a single task** , he can forget about seeing her **ever again**.

"And if you don't bring me everything I want, I'll never again stand beside you."

"And if you don't bring me everything I want, you'll never again hear my footsteps."

"And if you don't bring me everything I want, you won't even see my shadow."

MC: ?! ?! ?!

Wait a second, WAIT A SECOND! I thought Solomon was only **mildly irritated** by this whole flower thing, but doesn't this sound like he's **absolutely furious**?

I can feel cold sweat trickle down my spine.

Calm down, think this through. Is he simply exaggerating for dramatic effect? This whole poem, after all, is nothing but a metaphor for a conditioned apprenticeship rite.

I have the mirage flower now. I can give it to Solomon when it's time for the ceremony. So it should be fine now. I don't need to find the other **impossible** items on that list. Right?

MC: ...

I remember Solomon's razor-sharp smile as he gave me this scroll.

Actually...now I think about it...this might not be an exaggeration at all.

Solomon has a bit of a **thing** for rare magical plants. This is why I chose the mirage flower as the apprenticeship gift in the first place.

Point Zero, the reality Solomon is originally from, has been devastated by the war between the three realms. They have no natural light, not even starlight or moonlight, and all the soil has been scorched to rock foundation. Normal plants can't survive in that world. Only exceptional magical plants can grow there. And they're quite highly coveted.

So, when I prepared that unique magical flower for Solomon, and then I gave it to a demon instead, it might well be considered an act of betrayal, at least by Point Zero's laws. "Cheating" is a very mild way to describe this.

I can no longer remain in denial. He's actually considering **breaking our agreement** over this.

My vision blurs again, but not because of the translation charm this time. I have a feeling like the whole reality becomes unstable and shaky.

_It's not over yet._

This poem has no ending. It stops right here, at the last refrain. There is no fixed outcome.

In fact, this cryptic behavior is typical for him. You never know what he's thinking until the last moment when he acts. I'm lucky he even bothered to give me an advanced warning.

I just need to bring Solomon all the items on this list, right? That'll prove my commitment.

MC: It's simple. I'll just have to find **all these items**.

Impossible or not, I have no choice. Even if I die a thousand deaths, I can't lose Solomon. He is absolutely crucial for my plans.

All right, what should I get first?

I consult the scroll at random.

"The yellow frog from the Barren Swamp."

The Barren Swamp is a strange location. It has lush vegetation, and I've seen plenty of worms, snails, and slugs in there. But no creatures bigger than a worm. It definitely has **no frogs**.

And no noisy bugs. Nothing that makes buzzing, chirping, or even splashes. It's always eerily quiet. I wonder why?

And another thing, the Barren Swamp mostly has purple and lavender vegetation. A yellow frog is **really** going to stand out. I wonder if it's just a coincidence...

In any case, I'll start here. I'll go and procure a yellow frog from the Barren Swamp.

I give my pale reflection an encouraging smile.

MC: Hehe, I know how to get that frog. I've just had an **excellent idea**.

Suddenly, a gloved hand emerges out of the mirror, snatches the scroll out of my hands, and disappears.

MC: ?!

MC: **MY SCROLL**!

I lunge forward, plunge both hands into the mirror, and grope blindly inside. By some wild luck, I manage to grasp something. I think it's a horn!

There is an indignant yelp from the mirror, and I am thrown back by an invisible force.

The horn slips out of my hands. I stagger backwards, regain my balance, and lunge forward again.

But this time, my hands meet only the solid mirror surface. The passage is gone.

I know whose hand that was! And I even recognize the shape of that horn —!

MC: BARBATOS!

I hammer on the mirror.

MC: GET BACK HERE, BARBATOS! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!

There is no response.

I strike the mirror again, and this time, the surface cracks.

Seething with outrage, I take out my D.D.D. and send a message to Barbatos.

[MC: You can't interfere in the relationship between Master and apprentice. This is the matter between the two of us humans. You're just a demon. You don't have the right.]

[MC: If you return my scroll to me right now, I will forgive you.]

There is no reply from Barbatos.

I call Barbatos' number.

[This contact cannot be reached.]

[This contact has turned off his D.D.D.]

MC: Dammit, Barbatos!

Solomon must have ordered him to do it. My Master must have changed his mind about giving me a chance to prove myself! My only chance slipped through my fingers! It's all because I didn't maintain a tight enough grip on what's mine — !

I smash the cracked mirror surface into fragments, leaving blood stains on it. One of the shards must have sliced through my protective gloves, and I didn't even notice.

These are the gloves Solomon gave to me. It's a gift from my Master, meant to be used for delicate magical work. I should calm down before I do them any more damage. But that's easier said than done.

No matter. No matter. I still remember one item from that list. "The yellow frog from the Barren Swamp." I can procure that, at least. And there was another one, "The first morning dew of Smelter Mountain". And...

Dammit, I can't remember anything else! I should've taken a picture of the scroll! I should have —

I clench my hands into fists before I can damage my gloves again, and lean on the wall, trying to restore my breathing.

Calm down, let's think about this rationally. Even if I can't reach Barbatos, I still have the means of influencing him.

I stare at the D.D.D. in my hand.

I'm just... reluctant to use those means. I'll end up owing more than I can afford to pay...

My finger hovers over the call button.

 _ding_.

MC: !

It's a message from Barbatos! He even dares to message me — let's see what he has to say!

[Barbatos: I have returned the scroll to Solomon.]

Dammit, too slow! I am one step behind again.

I have the means of influencing Barbatos, but next to no means of influencing Solomon.

Well, unless you count myself. I could always go and talk to him directly. But right now, I have no right. I can't talk to him empty-handed. Words are cheap, meaningless, and deceitful. Isn't that the message he meant to convey with "A Lover's Complaint"? I need something more tangible than mere words.

I can't talk to him unless I have those gifts from the other side of the poem, but I have lost the poem, and the list with it!

Just what are Solomon's intentions? He **knew** I'd have to use a mirror in order to read the scroll! That would be the perfect moment to send Barbatos to steal it. Did he really change his mind about making me his apprentice?

As if I would allow him to change his mind! There's no turning back now. **It's too late to turn back**.

All right, then. It has come to this. Since my Master doesn't hesitate to use force, I won't hesitate either. We're going to play the game without rules.

I call Decimus. He picks up.

[MC: Hey.]

[Decimus: What's wrong?]

He can tell that something's wrong? I thought my voice sounded normal.

[MC: I'm fighting with my Master. He's resorted to using his demons, so I'm going to, as well. But I could use your help.]

[Decimus: Anything for you.]

[MC: I need your permission to summon a demon here.]

[MC: Is it possible?]

Solomon said it's not possible. According to the King's law, demons cannot be summoned to and from the Abyss. However, Decimus is always an exception. This won't be the first time when he's been granted a royal exemption or two. Perhaps, he can...

[Decimus: Of course.]

MC: !

[Decimus: If you want to bring someone here, I will lift the restrictions for you.]

[Decimus: Who do you wish to summon?]

[MC: Asmodeus.]


	2. An Impossible Task

I draw the summoning circle in the middle of a large hall, as Decimus watches on. Decimus has no desire to meet Asmo, but he says the summoning will only work in his presence.

Decimus has already hidden himself, blending perfectly with a stone pillar, and even though I know he is here, I can't see his outline at all.

I didn't warn Asmo about my summoning. I don't want Solomon to know what I'm doing. This time, I want to be the first one to move.

Asmo must be asleep right now. It's still a few hours until morning. I just hope he's not going to show up stark naked. It's happened before...

MC: All right, I'm ready.

Decimus: I will open the way.

Decimus: You have half an hour. After that, he will be brought back.

MC: Sounds good.

I activate the summoning circle and speak the incantation. For a brief moment, I catch a glimpse of large gates opening.

In a flash of dark light, a figure materializes in the center of the circle.

It's Asmodeus.

Asmodeus is kneeling down on the stone floor. He is dressed in bright red, festive-looking robes. The outfit is quite ostentatious, with bold flowers weaved through the fabric, as though alive.

MC: (blink)

Well, that's not pajamas, that's for sure.

He even has his hair done in a pretty complicated style, with hairpins and hair ornaments.

This is not the appearance of someone who's just been sleeping. Did I snatch him from the middle of a party...?

Asmo lifts his head and meets my eyes. He shows me a beatific smile.

Even his makeup is perfectly done.

Asmodeus: Master, you called me. How may I serve you?

MC: ...

He doesn't look surprised that I brought him here at all. And what's with the sudden formality?

This attire... Did he dress up specifically for this summoning?

I suppose he must be conscious of where he is being called to. I wouldn't be surprised if this is the first summoning to Aspire domain. It's only natural that Asmo wants to go down in history while dressed to the nines. Just...

How did he know that I was going to summon him? This sort of preparation requires a lot of time.

Don't tell me that Solomon has predicted my move, and he has already informed Asmo about it this far in advance?

My mood darkens, but I try not to show it on my face. I can't remember when I last saw Asmo face to face. I don't want to show him a gloomy expression.

Even if Solomon knows, there's nothing he can do to stop what's coming.

I smile at Asmo.

MC: I'm glad you were able to answer my call.

MC: And on such a **short notice** , too.

Asmodeus: ...

It's no good, my dark intentions are seeping through. I try to fix my smile back into place.

MC: I have a favor to ask of you.

MC: I need your help with something very important. You're the only one I can trust it with, Asmo.

MC: I hope that you won't refuse my request.

Asmo bows.

Asmodeus: If it's for you, my dear master, I will do anything.

MC: I am happy to hear that.

He's going to regret his promise shortly.

Asmodeus: What is this favor that you require of me?

MC: Before we discuss that, rise.

Why is he kneeling in the first place? I've read about summoning rituals, and even the most formal ceremonies do not require the demon to be summoned in the kneeling position.

The stone floor is cold and hard. It's bound to be uncomfortable.

Asmo's eyes dart around the hall. His gaze passes over the spot where Decimus is standing twice, without lingering on it.

Asmodeus: I don't mind staying like this. Since this is a formal summons, the least I can do is show obeisance to my master!

He's acting strange.

Besides, if you **really** want to show obeisance, you should rise when I tell you to rise, no objections.

I scrutinize Asmo's for a long moment, my gaze moving over his form.

Wait, what's with those **shoes**? I've never seen shoes of this design before. They look really... odd. Or should I say, unusual. But as creative as they are, I'm having my doubts that those shoes can be used for walking, or even for standing.

MC: ...

Don't tell me that because Asmo put those shoes on, he actually can't stand up.

...Ugh, that seems more likely the more I think about it. He must have put them on during the last minute, discovered the problem, but because of my sudden call, he had no time to replace them or even take them off.

Asmo must know that Decimus is here. Probably, he doesn't want to admit that there's something less than perfect with his outfit. I know he wants to keep up appearances at all costs.

MC: If you act too formal, I won't feel at ease either.

I step over the chalk boundary, approach Asmo, and reach out my hand to him.

With my other hand, I cast a spell, conjuring two seats.

MC: Come on, let's sit down.

This is the first conjuration spell I've ever learned. At first, it was quite hard, but after tons of practice, I can now do it with my eyes closed.

Asmo takes my hand, and I pull him to his feet. He gives a tiny wince.

MC: ...

Don't tell me that he actually **sprained his ankle** because of those shoes. And that is why he can't stand up.

I support him to his seat, which is less than a step away. He sinks into it gracefully, and I take a seat opposite him.

MC: I can't help but notice your shoes. They look very original.

Asmo gives me a strained smile.

Asmodeus: They're my own design.

Asmodeus: I've put a bit more... effort into the creative process than usual.

Asmo, you really overdid it this time.

MC: I have some interest in shoe design myself. I've been trying to create a perfect version of shoes.

Perfect, of course, according to my own standards. I want the shoes that look fancy, while still being useful for running fast, and retaining the ability to hurt anyone they're kicked with. This is in case a brawl breaks out in the middle of the ballroom, which happens more often than you'd think.

MC: So far, I've only managed to create a pair of simple glass slippers.

MC: Since they're made using magic, they don't last long. They look plain, too. Completely unbefitting of your beauty.

MC: But I've practiced very hard with that invocation, and those slippers are finally stable enough to wear, and even dance in.

MC: Would you like to try them on?

Asmodeus: ...

Asmodeus: Ooh, the shoes my master personally created? Using magic, no less?

Asmodeus: No matter what they look like, I would be honored to wear them.

MC: Give me just a moment, then.

I kneel down next to Asmo. Under the pretense of examining his shoe, I feel up his ankle.

Hmm, it seems normal. It has a silver anklet around it, however. That surprised me.

I evoke my magic and transform this shoe into a glass slipper, as Asmo is watching with interest.

Having finished with that, I examine his other ankle.

Yep, this one is swollen.

I can sense Decimus' gaze upon me. From Decimus' point of view, this must look like I'm taking advantage of the situation in order to grope Asmo's ankles.

I... better hurry it up.

With my left hand on the shoe, I evoke the transformation spell. With my right hand around Asmo's ankle, I invoke the healing spell.

As both spells are released simultaneously, it's extremely difficult to tell them apart. Even if you're watching closely, you would only notice a light burst of magic power. It's a simple but still effective technique for casting hidden spells.

The second shoe transforms into a glass slipper, and as the healing spell penetrates the skin, I already notice the swelling decrease.

I can hear Asmo breathe an almost unnoticeable sigh of relief.

I cast several spells in quick succession today, using my own power. Normally, I would avoid that, and I'd use power stones instead. But considering what I'm planning, these spells will make no difference.

MC: What do you think?

Asmo stands up, and gives an experimental twirl. His robes are whirling around him, as the glass slippers are sparkling. He laughs in delight.

Asmodeus: My master is so skillful!

Asmo gives me a brilliant smile.

Asmodeus: Lucifer would be overjoyed to hear that your magic control has increased so much.

...Why are you suddenly mentioning Lucifer? That name gave me a start.

Asmo and I retake out seats. Now that he's no longer worried about embarrassing himself, he appears much more relaxed.

MC: Our time together is limited, so I'll get straight to the point.

MC: The favor I want to ask of you concerns Solomon.

Asmo bats his eyelashes in exaggerated surprise.

Asmodeus: Oh? What could that possibly be? I have no idea!

Asmodeus: ...Just kidding. Of course I know what it's about.

MC: Really?

MC: What have you heard from Solomon?

Don't tell me that Solomon told him **everything**.

Asmodeus: Solomon told me that the two of you had a little disagreement over the details of your apprenticeship ceremony.

Asmodeus: He said that he's sent a complaint to you the heat of the moment, which he almost immediately regretted doing.

I **knew** it. Solomon regrets giving me this chance to prove myself.

Asmodeus: He said that he has since withdrawn the complaint, but he fears that it might already be too late.

You **bet** it's too late. And you can't withdraw what belongs to me.

Asmodeus: And he said that since I have a pact with both of you, I might be called upon to mediate.

MC: **Mediate**?

Asmo gives me a reassuring smile.

Asmodeus: Don't worry. As an expert in the field of relationships, I can give you great advice.

Asmodeus: With me as the matchmaker —

MC: Asmo.

MC: I want you to **infiltrate** Solomon's house, **spy** on him, find where he hides **my scroll** , and **bring it back to me**.

Asmo's pretty smile freezes on his lips.

After a long moment, he clears his throat delicately, and gives an unnatural sort of laugh.

Asmodeus: My darling, you're forward as usual.

Asmodeus: But that scroll...

Asmodeus: If that's the one I'm thinking of, then there's no need to search for it.

Asmodeus: Solomon has already **incinerated** that scroll right before my eyes.

MC: In that case, your task changes a little.

MC: I want you to **charm** Solomon.

The smile vanishes from Asmo's lips.

MC: And once he's **under your control** , I want you to **make him write that scroll again**.

Asmodeus: M-my... **dear** —

MC: When you have the rewritten scroll in your possession, I want you to deliver it to me ASAP.

Asmo's expression really isn't good.

Asmodeus: My **dear** master —!

MC: Will you do this for me, Asmo?

I stare hard at him. After a moment, Asmo looks away.

Asmodeus: I don't want to get your hopes up, so I'll tell you right away.

Asmodeus: I'm afraid that charming Solomon is **impossible**.

MC: This isn't like you to doubt your own ability like that, Asmo.

MC: Are you giving up before even trying?

He gives me a forced smile.

Asmodeus: I didn't want to admit it, but...

Asmodeus: I have, in fact, tried to charm Solomon in the past.

I am not surprised.

MC: Really? How did it go?

Asmodeus: ...About as well as you'd expect.

Suddenly, Asmo looks directly into my eyes. His expression is grim.

Asmodeus: You already know the extent of Solomon's abilities, don't you?

Yes, of course I know. And I know that Asmo is very unlikely to succeed.

This is why he's perfect for this task. He's already been through this experience once. Or perhaps more than once. It wouldn't be so bad the second time.

Asmodeus: Trying to charm Solomon is a **bad idea**.

Asmodeus: It would be much more effective to resolve this through **conversation**.

This proves that Solomon has told Asmo nothing about the contents of his complaint. Asmo doesn't know what's written in that scroll.

Or else he would've known that Solomon has declared empty words as meaningless. He's cut off the conversation option from the start.

I'm relieved to learn that Asmo doesn't know anything. I don't want to involve a third party in this private affair. Not too deeply, at least.

MC: Solomon has already resorted to using force. The time for negotiations is past.

MC: Barbatos can do a hit-and-run raid, but you can't do a little charm-and-rob visit?

Judging by Asmo's expression, the hit-and-run is news to him. He looks more uncomfortable by the minute.

Asmodeus laughs awkwardly.

Asmodeus: My dear, I am of course perfect and without equal, but... Just like any other demon, I have my limits.

Asmodeus: I can't do what Barbatos can do. It's not my style. And...

He takes a deep breath.

Asmodeus: I can't go against Solomon.

MC: ...

Decimus: ...

Well, that's it. This is what I wanted to know.

I suppose, at the end, I just wanted to know where Asmo's loyalties lie.

Of course, I expected this response. But I still can't help but feel disappointed.

Meanwhile, Asmo is still speaking.

Asmodeus: You can definitely resolve this situation using... other means. Solomon isn't angry with you, I can tell. He's just frustrated with himself. He'll be more than happy to see you, and speak with you.

Asmodeus: I'm eager to assist in any way I can, but I am no match for Solomon in a magical confrontation. Of course, if I had enough power, I would —

MC: So it's the question of power, huh?

No matter, I'll just proceed according to my plan. It's better that there were no surprises.

MC: Don't worry. You can definitely charm him.

MC: It won't be like in the past. This time, it'll be different.

Asmodeus: ...Different how?

MC: I am going to amplify your charm by lending you **my own power**.

Asmodeus: !

I take off my right glove. It won't be good if it's damaged by the power outpour.

No time to hesitate. I speak the incantation, pouring as much power into Asmo as I dare.

Asmodeus: !!

Of course, I am aware that trying to magically charm a tier nine mentalist like Solomon is an impossible task. Not only is it **guaranteed to fail** , but it would also **backfire** , horribly. It doesn't matter how much power you use. At a certain point of mastery, the amount no longer matters, and you can create a bottleneck which can stop an almost endless output.

I just want Asmo to keep Solomon occupied while I am working on my other plans. I am determined to find all the items on the list, and I don't want any further interference.

And if I'm lucky, Asmo would appear sufficiently distraught by his failure and Solomon would be forced to comfort him. If Asmo plays his cards right, Solomon might even give him that scroll out of pity.

It all depends on how good their relationship is. Since Asmo refused to act against Solomon, I'd say it's pretty good. This plan is likely to work out.

All right, that's enough power, I think. That's as much as he can safely handle. I don't want to risk it by adding more.

Asmo's eyes are glowing with dark light. His entire form is emanating that eerie dark radiance, and abruptly, he laughs.

Asmodeus: Yes, you're right! With your power coursing through me, I feel like I can charm **anyone**!

Don't let this power go to your head. You're drunk on it already. It's not enough to have power, you need to be able to control it.

And if you can't control it, it will destroy you, and everything you hold dear.

Asmo sweeps his glowing gaze over the hall once more, but he's much more bold about it, this time. The look in his eyes is almost challenging.

Asmodeus: By the way, is **Decimus** here too?

Asmo, you're not thinking straight. Get a hold of yourself.

Asmodeus: I was hoping to meet the infamous Avatar of Ruin.

Asmodeus: The demon capable enough to **take our human away**.

Decimus: ...

I can feel Decimus' gaze shift briefly to Asmo.

MC: He is here. He's doing you a favor by not speaking to you.

Asmodeus: I can handle a little chat!

I doubt you could handle a single sentence from Decimus.

Asmodeus: I want to see just how good he truly is for myself.

MC: Don't get carried away.

MC: It's getting late. Asmo, you should return.

Direct that magically induced overconfidence at Solomon, not Decimus.

Asmodeus: I'm not going back yet. First, I want to see the color of Decimus' **eyes**.

Asmo stands up, and starts moving around the circle, his hands outstretched.

MC: ...What are you doing?

Asmodeus: Playing hide-and-seek!

MC: ...

Asmo lets out a playful giggle. His silvery laughter, saturated with magic, echoes in the hall.

Asmodeus: Ready or not, here I come! Where are you, Decimus?

Decimus: ...

Stop dashing about, you might actually run into Decimus like this!

MC: Asmo, wait — !

I try to catch his sleeve, but Asmo dodges me with a provocative giggle. He's running around the hall while skipping, his magical glass slippers leaving a glowing trail in their wake.

Asmodeus: Catch me, catch me!

I thought it was a game of hide-and-seek, so how did it turn into a game of chase?!

Ugh, why did I give Asmo those glass slippers? He's running so fast now because of them!

Asmodeus: Is it true that Decimus can transform into **anyone**?

Don't even think about it. Decimus isn't someone you can toy with.

Asmodeus: Hehe! I wish Decimus would transform into me, so that the two of us could make sweet love to each other! I've always wanted to know what it's like to be with a perfect demon, and there is no one more perfect than myself!

Shall I use my magic to stop Asmo? 

The scene in the dungeon flashes through my mind.

I... am reluctant to restrain him. There is no telling what sort of damage my power could do.

Where are my power stones?

Asmodeus: Decimus! Can you hear me? Shall we play a little game?

Asmodeus: If I win, **I will take this human back with me.**

Decimus: ...

Oh no. This power overflow went straight to Asmo's head, I see.

Decimus is staring directly at Asmo, now.

This is why I never use my own magic. It **never** ends well.

I take out my D.D.D. and send a message.

[MC: Master, please bring Asmo back right now!]

[MC: He's trying to start a fight with Decimus. And I don't know how to unsummon a demon!]

Decimus: Lust.

Asmodeus: !

Asmo seems to sober up in an instant. He looks around. He can't tell where Decimus' voice is coming from. It seems to sound from all directions at once.

Decimus: Do you know why I chose this human as my target, and not Solomon?

Asmodeus: ...No, why?

Decimus: It was because of you.

Asmodeus: !

Haah. I tried to warn Asmo. He knows that Decimus is lying, and he still can't help but listen.

Decimus: In order to approach a human, I decided to use a demon near that human to gather information.

Decimus: It was a choice between Sloth and you.

Decimus: I chose Sloth because your nightmares were too unpleasant to watch.

Asmodeus: ...

Decimus: Sloth has nightmares about the past and the future. The visions of deaths, and the endless trap maze of the past. It's nothing unusual.

Decimus: But you... In your nightmares, you are...

Decimus laughs softly, and Asmo pales.

Decimus: **Too unpleasant to look at.**

Asmodeus: !!

In his shock and outrage, Asmo stops moving. Finally, I manage to catch him. I wrap one arm around his waist from behind, and clamp a hand over his mouth.

MC: Gotcha!

Asmodeus: Mmmph!

Asmo, this isn't the time to be blushing! Stop imagining whatever you're imagining.

At this moment, Asmo's form starts to glow.

It's Solomon's summoning!

Decimus glances over at me.

Decimus: Shall I let him go?

MC: ...Yes, please do.

The summoning circle activates.

Suddenly, Asmo grabs a hold of my arm.

Decimus: Don't even try, Lust.

Decimus: This human isn't going with you.

There is a flash of light, and Asmodeus disappears from my arms.

For a brief moment, I catch a glimpse of large gates, closing shut.

_ding._

I read the message.

[Solomon: I will teach you how to unsummon demons later today.]

It looks like I only have time to act until the end of this day.

Well, now that I have unleashed an overexcited Asmodeus upon Solomon, I hope that Solomon would be distracted for a while.


	3. A Secret Gathering

Five hours later...

With a shifty look about me, I pull my hood lower over my face, and stare at the dilapidated building before me.

This looks like a bar.

Seeing how there's a Samhain festival going on right now, the magicians everywhere are naturally having many secret gatherings. Witches and sorcerers really enjoy having secret gatherings at every opportunity.

Well, calling it "secret" is a bit of a stretch, really. You don't even need to be invited. For example, right now, as I was passing through the fair, I saw a flyer that said "attend a secret gathering" with an arrow on it, flimsily covered up with a low-level concealment spell.

And now, there is a poster that says "secret gathering HERE" on the door of this bar.

Despite having some ambitions as an aspiring warlock, and even accompanying Solomon to a few of those gatherings before, I haven't really tried to socialize with the magical community. It's because I don't have a status. I don't know if I'd be accepted, and I don't want to risk messing things up. There's too much at stake.

But right now, I don't have a choice.

Well, here goes nothing.

I push the door open, and slink into the bar.

The bartender glances over at me for a moment, but says nothing. It looks like I won't be turned away. That's good...

This gathering looks small, and you can't exactly call it lively. It's quiet, actually. There are only three patrons.

I order a tall glass of Pumpkin Sledgehammer, and study the patrons under the cover of my drink.

A gloomy witch with a pointy hat is drinking alone, methodically downing one glass after another. A bored warlock is leisurely playing Catch the Cat against an invisible opponent — looks like an air elemental — the figures moving apparently on their own. There's even a vampire dozing in the far corner, wearing an eye mask.

On the vampire's table, there is a sign.

Sign: Will answer one question for a drink of Blood Sacrifice. (General magical theory only.)

MC: !

This is perfect. I was hoping to encounter something like this, actually. During festivals, there are always magicians willing to share some of their knowledge for a nominal price.

I purchase a glass of Blood Sacrifice from the bartender. When I place the glass on the vampire's table, he extends his hand, takes the glass, and drinks from it without taking off his eye mask.

Vampire: Ask your question.

MC: How do I lower the environmental temperature from the boiling point to the dew point?

The vampire tilts his head slightly to the side.

Vampire: Location?

MC: Smelter Mountain.

The vampire takes off his eye mask and regards me with his pale crimson eyes.

Vampire: Ah, I see.

Vampire: "A Lover's Complaint", huh?

MC: !!

MC: How do you know?!

My voice is unintentionally loud. For a moment, I feel like all the eyes in the bar are on me. But when I glance back, everything seems to be the same.

I lower my voice to a whisper and lean towards the vampire.

MC: How...?

Vampire: Because I've received the Complaint before.

Vampire: In fact, I've sent one before.

MC: **Really**?

Vampire: It's been a long time since I've gained immortality. It's not that surprising. I have already experienced almost all there is to experience in this world.

The vampire takes a sip from his glass, and licks his lips.

Vampire: A Lover's Complaint is an ancient linguistic riddle. It's composed from several dead languages, using homonyms, idioms, and scriptural overlaps.

Even though my question wasn't about the Complaint, the vampire seems to be warming up to the subject.

Vampire: There is no magic involved in its composition, it's all pure linguistic skill. It looks like one text on one side, but a completely different text when upturned and read in the mirror.

Vampire: And it's infamous for being used to express dissatisfaction.

Vampire: When a magician is feeling wronged, they might go ahead and send the Complaint. It's a notorious tradition.

MC: Notorious...?

Vampire: Indeed. Sending the Complaint **almost always results in a parting of ways**.

MC: ?!

Solomon sent me a Cursed poem!

???: That's a pessimistic way of looking at things.

MC: !

The warlock, apparently having grown bored with his game of Catch the Cat, has decided to join our conversation.

Warlock: I've received the Complaint once before, and it was quite an **experience**.

The warlock drags his chair to the vampire's table, and sits down. The vampire regards him with a mild irritation.

Warlock: You too, sit down. Let me tell you all about it.

The warlock sweeps the sign off the table.

Warlock: Oi, a barrel of Blood Sacrifice for this table!

Vampire: You might wish to drink directly from the barrel, but I don't. It's unrefined.

Warlock: And mugs, of course! Three mugs for all of us!

Well, it looks like I'll be able to get some information.

I sit down, joining the vampire and the warlock at the table. The warlock pats my shoulder in approval.

His hand is heavy, and I can feel an abnormal heat emanating from the touch. He must be a fire elementalist.

The bartender brings us Blood Sacrifice. It is indeed a small barrel, with a tap. The warlock fills our mugs, and takes a large gulp from his.

I also take a sip. It's wine. I think.

Warlock: Let me give you a piece of advice.

Warlock: Don't try to collect those things on the list. Those tasks are impossible for a reason.

Warlock: Instead, try to resolve this matter in the **bedchamber**.

Warlock: This is what I've done, when my, ahem, business associate sent the Complaint to me.

MC: ...Did that work?

Warlock: Nah.

Warlock: In the end, she walked out on me with all of my assets.

That just confirms that the Complaint is definitely Cursed!

Warlock: But I don't regret the time we've spent together. It really spiced up the end of our relationship.

I don't find this at all comforting...!

Warlock: So you see, even though you can't change the outcome, you can still change the way things end. It can be either bitter or enjoyable — your choice. It all depends on how you look at things.

Warlock: If the parting of ways is inevitable, why not enjoy the moment while it lasts? No need to think of the future.

MC: I have no interest in that.

MC: I don't want a fleeting enjoyment. I want a **permanent bond**. The one that **lasts for eternity**.

MC: Once I found what I want, why should I ever let go?

The warlock chuckles.

Warlock: That's a bit naive and idealistic.

Warlock: Once you've lived a bit longer —

Vampire: I disagree. I don't think it's naive or idealistic at all.

The vampire drains his mug in one long gulp.

Vampire: Due to my long lifespan, I have become quite jaded, and disillusioned where relationships are concerned. Even between the immortals, the bonds don't always last. However...

Vampire: I still haven't given up on forming a permanent bond. This is something to strive for, and to discover, like a true treasure in the pile of rust.

The vampire stares directly at me. His fixed gaze is a bit unnerving.

Vampire: Just because it cannot be easily found, it doesn't mean it does not exist.

Vampire: A true treasure like that won't be easily discovered. I don't mind taking my time searching for it. I have all the time in the world, and I am patient.

Vampire: One day, one hour, I will happen upon it. Perhaps in the most unlikely of places.

Vampire: And once I find it, test it, and make certain, **I am never letting it go**.

Warlock: Why, aren't you a romantic!

The warlock slaps the vampire on the back, hard. The vampire turns his gaze towards the warlock, his eyes narrowed.

Vampire: (muttering) Uncouth savage...

The warlock laughs.

MC: So, about my question...

Vampire: You wish to alter the atmosphere of Smelter Mountain until it can produce dew. Yes...

Vampire: It is possible, in theory. But not in practice.

Vampire: It requires extremely advanced, specialized environmental magic. Not to mention, it needs a lot of power.

MC: Power won't be a problem.

Vampire: **Is that so**...?

The vampire transfixes me with his pale gaze again, examining me thoughtfully over the rim of his glass. Even the warlock has fallen abruptly silent, his gaze on me contemplative.

Despise the disquieting scrutiny, I push through with my line of questioning.

MC: Do you know any environmental specialists?

Vampire: There is one right here.

Without looking away from me, he nods at the gloomy witch with a pointy hat.

Warlock: Yeah, she's got a magisterium degree in nature magic.

Warlock: She's been drinking down her sorrows for the last eight hours, however. Won't be in any shape to do magic until tomorrow.

The warlock leans closer, and whispers into my ear.

Warlock: Her partner of ninety-two years has just abandoned her for her younger sister. She's plotting her revenge. Don't get near her.

The vampire also lowers his voice confidentially.

Vampire: You look like a novice in the field of magic. I don't know who sent you the Complaint...

The vampire trails off expectantly. There is a slight lilt of question at the end of his statement. The warlock is also looking at me with open curiosity.

MC: ...

I am here to gather information, and not to share it. But if I want their help, I'd have to give them something in return. A little food for gossip.

MC: It was my Master.

Warlock: **For real**?

Vampire: My condolences. That is a savage way to treat one's apprentice.

Warlock: You **poor** kid. What a rough start. That's **not** how you guide the younger generation.

Vampire: Indeed. Even the one who created me and then abandoned me to survive on my own in a pit full of savage beasts wasn't **that brutal**.

Ugh, this isn't helping my morale at all!

The warlock slaps my back in sympathy, and I stagger.

Warlock: Listen, seeing how you're a total neophyte, I don't want you to be misguided.

Warlock: Don't get your hopes up. That list truly is impossible.

Vampire: Yes, quite. I have attempted to solve those tasks myself, in the past, out of boredom.

Vampire: Some of them can be done, given enough time, but the rest of them are not doable.

Warlock: When you receive the Complaint, there is often a deadline. A ridiculous deadline. Something like a week. What can you do in a **week**?

Vampire: Even if you somehow collect the first morning dew of Smelter Mountain in time, the other items are even harder to obtain.

Warlock: Yeah, for example, what about "the yellow frog from the Barren Swamp"? This thing does not even exist, so how could it be collected?

MC: Oh, that.

MC: I have already collected it.

Warlock: ??

Vampire: ??

I take a box out of my pocket, and place it on my palm for them to see.

_Ribbit._

Vampire: Is that...?

Warlock: No way...

I press on the sides of the box, and it opens.

A grumpy-looking yellow frog is sitting inside.

Yellow Frog: Ribbit.

Its bulging eyes are vivid lavender.

As both the vampire and the warlock stare at it, the yellow frog changes its color to lavender, and then it shimmers, turning completely transparent.

In an instant, the frog disappears from view.

I slam the box shut.

_Ribbit!_

MC: It's a little shy. It doesn't like being seen by strangers.

Warlock: Is this frog really from the Barren Swamp...?

Vampire: ...

???: There's a way to make sure.

The witch with the pointy hat came up to our table. For someone who's been presumably drinking for eight hours straight, she doesn't look drunk at all. Her voice is brisk, and her expression is dark.

She takes out a piece of parchment, which I instantly recognize as a divination scroll, and puts it in the middle of the table.

Witch: Place your frog on top of this, and we'll know all about this yellow frog's true nature, and its origins.

I reach out, and place the box containing the frog on the divination scroll.


	4. Feelings Are Dust, but the Frog Is Real

There is a faint glow, and words start appearing on the divination scroll.

Divination: [This is a third generation yellow frog hatched and grown using time acceleration in the Barren Swamp.]

Divination: [Parents: red and green frogs hatched and grown using time acceleration in the Barren Swamp.]

Divination: [Grandparents: spotted, melodious, leapy, and horned frogs hatched out of the Halloween eggs imported into the Barren Swamp.]

Divination: [The Halloween eggs were purchased five hours ago at the local fair, at 38% discount, third stall from the left, with a poster saying "Prank eggs! A fully grown frog of a random color is guaranteed to hatch from it! Spook your neighbors with a sudden frog when they try to cook eggs!"]

Divination: [Achievement: This frog has developed a chameleon mutation at birth and has escaped being devoured by the Lurker.]

Divination: [Attention! The ecosystem of the Barren Swamp has been permanently altered! A large number of chameleon frogs have become a part of the Barren Swamp!]

Divination: [Attention! This frog is classified as "the yellow frog from the Barren Swamp"! One part of the riddle of "A Lover's Complaint" has been permanently solved! The Coven has been notified. The Linguistic Association has been notified. A record has been added to the Witching Chronicle.]

Divination: [Attention! This yellow frog is property of the Reve — ]

WHAM.

I slam my hand on the divination scroll, and the writing upon it freezes.

MC: Ahaha... Elder sister, this divination of yours is **unnecessarily detailed**.

MC: Your magical skill is formidable indeed.

The witch does not reply. She is staring at the divination scroll, speechless.

Warlock: I don't regret coming to this secret gathering. Such an entertaining thing has occurred.

Even though the warlock is smiling, his gaze upon me is sharp and intense.

Vampire: Remarkable.

The vampire lifts the corners of his lips in a half-smile. This is the first smile I've seen from him.

Vampire: So you purchased a number of prank eggs, and you brought them to the Barren Swamp, hoping that a yellow frog would hatch from one of them.

Maybe it's the vampire's sympathetic tone, but I suddenly feel like venting a little.

MC: I bought a hundred of those, and not a single yellow frog hatched —!

Vampire: The frogs of which colors did you get?

MC: All sorts of ridiculous colors, like lapis lazuli with amber spots and flashing neon purple circles as eye shadow — !

Vampire: I see. I see. So you had to wait for the second generation of frogs to hatch.

The vampire's eyes flash.

Vampire: And you used **time acceleration** to expedite the process.

Trust him to zero in on the most significant part...

Warlock: HOW'd you make time accelerate?

MC: ...I used a rare artifact.

I wonder if Barbatos counts as a rare artifact? In any case, he was only happy to assist. He was, I think, worried about what I might do to him otherwise in retaliation. I haven't forgotten that he's stolen my scroll.

MC: After the second generation of frogs hatched, I finally started getting frogs of solid colors, but still no yellow ones.

MC: And then, trouble came my way.

Warlock: The Lurker, huh?

Warlock: I've heard rumors that something might be living in the Swamp. Something that devours all living creatures bigger than bugs. And that's why the Swamp is so devoid of life.

Warlock: But I've never seen the Lurker myself.

MC: I've never seen it, either.

MC: I only saw frogs disappear, one by one.

MC: By the time I realized that something was eating my precious magical frogs, the entire population of frogs was halved.

MC: And I was forced to run around tracking down an unseen predator and distracting it from eating the rest of the frogs while my — my rare artifact — worked on hastening the hatching of the third generation.

I had a bit of an edge as an intangible phantom, but that was still **a lot** of running around. Not to mention, the unseen predator proved to be resistant to magic, and you can't exactly draw a circle in the swamp. There's too much water.

MC: I was so relieved when a yellow frog finally hatched!

_Ribbit._

The frog knows we're talking about it.

All of a sudden, the witch emerges out of her stupor, turns around, and throws her arms around me.

MC: ?!

Witch: **Sibling of my soul**!

Warlock: ...

Vampire: ...

What? What?

The witch starts sobbing uncontrollably into my shoulder.

MC: !

Witch: Yes! This is exactly right! Feelings are dust, empty words are worthless, bonds are only an illusion, but the frog — the frog is **real**!

I... I want to hightail it out of here.

The problem is, the magical specialist I need is right here, soaking my cloak with her tears.

MC: Th-there, there... Please get a hold of yourself...

Witch: The cheaters don't care! They feel no remorse... They think they've done nothing wrong... How **could** he? Even after **ninety-two years** —!

The witch is bawling. I cast a pleading look at the warlock and the vampire, who avoid my gaze.

Witch: Even if they say they're sorry, they won't go out of their way to acquire a frog. That would never happen! Never...

Witch: But... you **actually did it**...

Witch: My faith in humanity has been restored!

MC: (sweatdrop)

I pat the witch on the back carefully.

MC: Why don't you sit down, drink some water?

Witch: Hic...

To my great relief, the witch releases me to join us at the table. The bartender brings her a glass of water, and a box of tissues.

MC: In fact, the frog is only the first step. I still have the rest of the list to take care of.

MC: But the problem is, I was careless and lost that list.

I look at the vampire.

MC: You seem to be very knowledgeable.

Vampire: ...Is there something that you want?

MC: I'll buy you another drink. Could you write a copy of the Complaint for me?

Vampire: I don't mind, but...

Vampire: I've had enough of Blood Sacrifice. I have a craving for something fresher and stronger. And I don't have a companion tonight.

Vampire: How about you let me drink a sip of **your blood**?

The vampire leans forward, and reaches out his hand. His finger traces my wrist, a feather-like touch. A wisp of necromantic power brushes against me — deep, tranquil and icy cold.

MC: Just a sip? Sounds like a good deal to me...

Vampire: Yes. Let's continue this discussion somewhere more **private**.

Warlock: Just a moment.

Warlock: I know it's a bit sudden, but I don't have an apprentice right now. I feel like helping a neophyte out.

Warlock: I'll give you a hand with the rest of your list.

MC: It's true that having an accomplished magician on my side would be helpful, but —

Warlock: This is **perfect**.

The warlock wraps his arm around my shoulders. The heat from his touch makes me feel like I'm plunged into a warm bath.

MC: — but what do you want in return?

Warlock: We can discuss that later. Time is of the essence. Let's get started without delay —

Witch: Before that, I believe you were looking for a specialist in environmental magic.

The witch blows her nose resolutely.

Witch: As it happens, I'm lacking a research partner right now.

Witch: I specialize in cutting edge nature magic, biosphere, and the effects and patterns of the moon, but I can't always be out there in the field. For this reason, I can't always get my hands on rare specimens.

Witch: Why don't you let me **examine this yellow frog**?

Witch: In return, I will share my most recent research with you.

MC: Did you say the pattern of the moon?

MC: Are you able to predict the time of the Devildom's next **dark moon**?

Witch: Eventually, even that won't be out of my grasp.

The witch reaches out her hand towards the box. Her fingertips flare up with a green light, and I sense the smell and presence of moss, a soothing, enveloping sort of sensation.

MC: Well, if it's just examining it for a moment —

Abruptly, there is total silence.

The witch's hand stops just before touching the box.

MC: ?

All three of my table companions are looking behind me.

A shadow falls upon me from above. Someone is here.

With a chilling feeling, I turn around.

It's Solomon.

MC: M-master...?!

Solomon smiles pleasantly at everyone.

Solomon: Hello.

There is a long moment of crackling silence.

Slowly, the vampire leans away from me.

Vampire: ...On the second thought, I am full. I'll be taking my leave.

Without even a stir in the air, the vampire disappears.

The warlock removes his arm from my shoulders.

Warlock: ...I just remembered that I had something to do. Gotta go!

There is a gust of wind, and the warlock is gone.

The witch withdraws her hand from the box.

Witch: ...I think I've had too much to drink. I'll retire for the night.

With a flare of teleportation spell, the witch vanishes.

Even the bartender has disappeared at some point.

I am left alone with Solomon.

Solomon: You're popular.

Solomon: Perhaps I should introduce you to everyone as **my student** at the next gathering.

Solomon: Before the other magicians start getting ideas about you, and end up **hurting themselves**.

MC: ...

My shock from his sudden appearance is too great. I am struggling to regain my composure.

MC: What... are you doing here? Where's **Asmo**...?

The smile on Solomon's face twitches a little.

Solomon: After Asmodeus has finally run out of energy, I managed to slip him a sleeping potion.

Solomon: He's resting now.

Solomon: As for me, I am watching over this festival district. I have to make sure no **incidents** occur during the celebration.

Solomon: When the Coven received a sudden and baffling notification about **a yellow frog** , I knew I had to come over and investigate.

_Ribbit._

Both of us turn towards the box. Solomon reaches out his hand and takes it.

MC: Hey...

Solomon opens the box.

H-hey, there's a secret method of opening this box. At least pretend to have some difficulty in opening it.

The yellow frog is revealed. The frog and Solomon stare at each other.

The frog starts shimmering. Before it becomes completely transparent, Solomon closes the lid again, and slips the box into his pocket.

Solomon: I'll be taking that.

Solomon: It's meant for me, after all.

I can't argue with that.

Since it's come to this, I might as well demand my scroll from him directly...

MC: Master, I —

Solomon: No. I won't give it to you.

MC: ...! ...!!

Solomon: Just pretend you never received the Complaint. I don't dare to let you read another line of it.

Solomon: I am worried that you might solve all of its impossible tasks permanently, leaving nothing for the future generations of magicians to be tormented by.

You just admitted out loud that you sent the Complaint to me just to torture me...!

MC: Then how am I supposed to prove myself?!

Solomon: You don't have to worry about that. I have **no shortage** of tasks for you.

Oh? That doesn't sound like he plans to have **a parting of ways** any time soon.

I am still stunned and confused, but now I'm starting to feel more hopeful.

MC: What are those tasks? I want to get started on them right away!

Solomon: What a coincidence. There's something urgent and important I need your help with.

Solomon needs my help? That's a first.

MC: Of course, I'll do anything!

Solomon: I need your help choosing a gift for Lord Diavolo's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Lord Diavolo!


	5. Lord Diavolo's Birthday Gifts

Solomon and I walk to the fair. Outside, the wind is strong and penetrating, and the ground is partially frozen. Occasional snowflakes are swirling in the wind, mixed with the fall leaves.

MC: So...what happened with Asmo...?

Solomon shakes his head and lets out a sigh.

Solomon: It was a hot mess.

Solomon: He began by attempting to charm me. You'd think, by now, he would **know better**.

Solomon: But someone's power, apparently, imbibed him with a lot of **overconfidence**.

MC: Haha...

Solomon: When that failed, he became despondent, and I was forced to comfort him.

Solomon: While I was in the process of doing that, he suddenly decided to show off the shoes you've made for him. I don't actually mind that part.

Solomon: But then, he had the idea to demonstrate how easy it was to run wearing those shoes. And he started to run all over the house, half undressed.

Solomon: I had no choice but to chase after him, because I was worried he'd run right into the lab and make a mess there. But he was unexpectedly fast.

Solomon: At this point, with the worst timing, a group of witches came to my house, to ask me to supervise a district of the Samhain fair. Asmodeus charmed them.

Solomon: The witches had familiars with them. Asmodeus charmed those, too.

Solomon: Because the witches were taking too long to return, a couple of warlocks came by to check on them. Asmodeus charmed them, as well.

MC: ...

Solomon: At first, I thought his antics were rather entertaining, but as time went on and Asmodeus still wouldn't run out of energy, it started to become tiresome.

Solomon: But even so, I have no complaints. As a result of that havoc, I've acquired plenty of **useful data**.

MC: What sort of...data?

Solomon: Well, for example...

Solomon takes out a notebook and consults it.

Solomon: Compared to before, your magical control has really increased. Your transformation spell is now more stable and lasts for hours. By the time I left the house, those shoes were still transformed.

Solomon takes a note in his notebook.

Solomon: In addition, you're now more willing to use your power. At first, you would only use it as a last resort, but now you're even using it to achieve your goals.

Solomon: Your healing spell, too, has become more precise. It no longer wastes quite so much power.

Solomon takes another note.

Hey, what sort of notebook is that?

I tilt my head and glance at the cover.

MC: !

That's my name on the cover! And below, it says, "Observation Diary."

...It's an observation diary of **me**?

MC: May I borrow that notebook of yours for a moment...?

Solomon hands it over to me with a smile.

I soon understand why. The entire text is written in code! I can't read **anything**.

I flip through the pages. There are so many notes, and they look like daily ones. It goes back a full year...

I return the notebook to Solomon.

MC: I want to know what's written there.

Because it sounds like there might be a lot of criticism of my magical ability, chronicled in that notebook. I want to know in which areas I'm lacking the most, so that I could hurry up and improve.

He smiles.

Solomon: Yes, I'm sure you do.

What kind of answer is that?!

At this moment, we seem to cross an invisible boundary, because the wind dies down, and the temperature rises to a comfortable level. Someone has placed a magical screen around the fair, protecting it from the elements.

Solomon: It's a little late, but let's look for a suitable gift.

Solomon: Do you know what sorts of things Lord Diavolo likes?

MC: I have a good idea.

My voice sounds more confident than I feel. There are so many stalls here...

Wait.

I stop abruptly next to one of the stalls.

MC: That **pen** over there...

Solomon: The one shaped like a lizard?

MC: That's the one. Doesn't that lizard look a bit like your flame salamander?

Solomon: You know what, you're right. The vicious expression on its face is especially similar. And those red eyes.

Solomon: But I told you, that flame salamander isn't mine.

It sounds like Solomon still hasn't taken him as his familiar.

Solomon: Do you want that pen?

MC: Yes, let's buy it. It looks like something Diavolo might like!

Solomon: ...

Solomon: Are you sure he won't dislike it?

MC: Of — of course. Who could dislike something so cute?

We approach the stall.

Solomon: We'd like to purchase that lizard pen.

Merchant: It's not for sale. This is a prize for winning a game in the Halloween tournament.

Solomon: It's unfortunate. As a supervisor, I can't participate in the tournament...

MC: I'd like to participate! Can I enter?

Merchant: You could, but you won't be able to compete for the final prize. You're two days late. The others have already collected a large number of points.

I've been too distracted by everything that's been going on, and missed out on the competition!

Merchant: You would only be able to participate in today's games.

Solomon: Would that be enough to win this lizard pen?

Merchant: Of course! Such trifles are low-level prizes for small games. In fact, you can still win quite a bunch of those, if you put your mind to it.

Merchant: Even though they're only little prizes, they're still enchanted properly, and the quality is Coven-approved.

Merchant: For example, this lizard pen here is enchanted to breathe fire on demand.

Merchant: In addition, it can be used to create fire writ.

MC: Fire writ?

Solomon: It's a special ink that will torch the document it's written on, after a delay.

Merchant: Indeed. It's very useful for discreetly disposing of the documents you'd rather not sign **permanently**.

Mechant: After the recipient brings the signed document back, the signature will ignite and incinerate the whole thing.

MC: That's a useful pen. And it looks good. I want to play!

Merchant: First, you need to register.

The merchant places a list on the counter.

Merchant: Write down your entry here.

The registry list already has quite a large number of entries. They're not names, but rather specializations. "Necromancer-T5", "Druid-T7", "Enchanter-T2"...

The numbers after the specialization must be the tier of skill, with the tier nine being the highest. There is even a tier seven druid participating. Even if I entered the tournament from the start, I don't think I would've stood a chance. Maybe next year...

After each entry, there is a seal or a signature. "Coven's Chosen," "Salem's Society," "Flowers Appreciation Club"...

Those are all elite groups of magicians. This tournament is a bigger deal than I've thought.

I have no idea what I'm supposed to write here. I don't have a specialization.

Solomon: Write "maleficar," for now. Curses and Curse-breaking is a pretty good place to start.

I put the quill to the paper, but then I pause.

Hold on. Is my specialization going to be decided just like that? The field of study is the most important thing.

MC: Master, I want to study circle breaking, tracking, and battle magic.

Solomon: All in due time. There is no need to rush.

MC: I want to study mental magic, too.

Solomon: ...We can discuss that later, when we get back home.

MC: I want to learn how to teleport, too.

Solomon's smile turns a little helpless.

MC: I don't mind if it takes a long time. I want to open dimensional rifts and travel between the realms as I please...!

Solomon: Yes, yes. I know.

Solomon: But you need to study Curse-breaking, first.

Solomon: Or else you won't be able to manage if your Curse goes out of control again.

MC: Oh... You're right. I haven't even thought about that.

Solomon: Keep your own situation in mind first.

MC: Yes.

I write "Maleficar-T0" on the list. I don't know anything about Curses, so I don't even qualify for the first tier.

Solomon: Don't worry. You definitely have a talent for this.

Solomon: Seeing how you were even able to overcome the misfortune of the Complaint.

MC: Master, even you think that the Complaint is Cursed! Then why'd you send it to me in the first place?!

Solomon chuckles, looking distinctly lacking in remorse.

Solomon: Consider that an introduction lesson into the art Curse-breaking.

Solomon: I have also learned a lot from it.

Solomon reaches over my shoulder and leaves his own signature next to my entry.

Merchant: All right, you're all set.

Merchant: You want the lizard pen, right?

MC: Yes...!

Merchant: It's the prize for collecting ten points in a game of Trap the Zombie.

Merchant: You need to trap ten zombies, and you're only allowed to use circles.

Ten minutes later...

I examine my prize, the lizard pen. The lizard's eyes are glowing red, as though alive. They're probably rubies, used as containers of magical power. The pen is easy to hold, too.

I hand the pen to Solomon, and he nods in approval.

Solomon: The quality is excellent, and the charge won't have to be refilled for a while. This will do as a gift.

MC: That was fun.

Solomon: Even just watching you was entertaining. I've always felt that zombies were satisfying to trap.

Solomon: Your circle-drawing technique has become quite good.

MC: Now that we've got the lizard pen, we can —

I stop abruptly.

MC: Hey, check out those **fluffy slippers** shaped like black cats.

MC: Aren't they ridiculously cute? Just looking at them is relaxing. I bet there's a comfy charm on them.

MC: That looks like something Diavolo might like.

Solomon: ...

MC: They're a prize too, right?

MC: Let's see what game needs to be played in order to win them.

Solomon: We already have the pen. Why do we need to get something else?

MC: But what if Diavolo doesn't like it?

MC: It's better to prepare several gifts, just in case.

Eight hours later...

I have collected too many gifts, and I have enlisted Nine to carry a trunk full of prizes on his back.

MC: Check out that stall. That's a cute-looking apron.

Solomon: ...

Solomon: What would Lord Diavolo need an apron for?

Solomon: Or are you thinking of bringing this souvenir back for **Barbatos**?

MC: !

MC: N-no way.

MC: Barbatos doesn't even use an apron while he cooks.

MC: I was just... thinking out loud.

Solomon: Were you?

Solomon: But I think Barbatos would be happy to receive such a **cute apron** from you.

Solomon lets out a wicked cackle.

Master, you just want to have a laugh at mine and Barbatos' expense. Even if I gave it to Barbatos, he would never wear it.

MC: ...Never mind the apron. Now that we've prepared a few gifts for Diavolo's birthday, I feel slightly reassured that he'll find something he likes among them.

MC: Before leaving, why don't we get a souvenir for Decimus —

There is a sound of bells.

Solomon: The tournament is over.

MC: Oh... that was fast.

Solomon: Yes... it ended too soon.

Suddenly, Solomon turns and looks at someone behind me.

Solomon: Hello, Lord Diavolo. And... Barbatos.

MC: !

I turn around as well.

Sure enough, both Diavolo and Barbatos are here!

I give Barbatos the evil eye. His gaze shifts away very slightly.

Diavolo: Hello.

Solomon: So the two of you also decided to visit the Coven's fair?

Diavolo: We're only visiting briefly. Unfortunately, we can't stay.

Diavolo: There are so many fun stalls here, but I have to pass them by without stopping. It's too bad that demons are not allowed to participate in these games.

Diavolo: Not that I'd have the time, even if I was permitted.

Diavolo has to work even on his birthday?

Diavolo: It really is a shame. Some of those prizes look very tempting.

Barbatos: Young Master is here to give the prizes to the winners of the tournament.

Barbatos: The Coven asked him to be the guest of honor at the awards ceremony.

Diavolo: I am so jealous! I can only hold those prizes briefly, before giving them away.

Diavolo: If I could, I'd rather compete for them myself instead.

Diavolo glances from Solomon to me. For a moment, his gaze lingers on the trunk.

Diavolo: That's one huge trunk.

MC: !

Is it really all that huge...?

Diavolo: It looks like you've collected **quite a few souvenirs**.

MC: Y-yeah...

To my relief, Diavolo does not pursue this line of questioning.

Diavolo: Are you here to supervise the fair, Solomon?

Solomon: No, I asked my student for help with choosing your birthday gift.

MC: ?!

Diavolo: !

Solomon, why'd you have to blurt that out? Wasn't it supposed to be a **surprise**?

Barbatos: How unusual.

Barbatos: You've been here for eight hours. I thought for sure you've been here on patrol, Solomon.

Barbatos: Why would it take **that long** for you to choose someone's birthday gift? You never have any trouble with those things.

Solomon: I didn't intend to spend that much time myself, either.

Solomon: But, according to my student, apparently...

Solomon gestures at the first stall, then at the last one, encompassing the entire fair.

Solomon: Everything from there to here " **looks like something Diavolo might like**."

MC: ?!

Diavolo: ...

Master, I can't believe you'd sell me out like that!

Solomon: Before I knew it, it's been **eight hours**.

Solomon: And gradually, **this whole trunk** was filled with Lord Diavolo's birthday gifts.

Why, why would you say so much, Solomon? You're usually not THAT talkative!

Was he annoyed that I took too long choosing the gifts? But he seemed to really enjoy himself... He didn't complain, either!

MC: (sweatdrop)

Diavolo: So, this whole trunk...

Diavolo is staring at the trunk in shock.

Diavolo: **All of it** is for me?

As I'm watching Diavolo's stunned expression, something occurs to me.

I just realized that I might have **gone overboard** with all those gifts.

It's my failing. I never know where to stop. Is this making Diavolo feel awkward?

I backtrack in a hurry.

MC: No, that's not it!

Diavolo: No?

MC: Only **one** of those items is for you!

MC: We just haven't decided which one yet.

It would be impossible to decide. They all look ridiculously cute.

Diavolo: Only one?

Diavolo: Who's getting the others, then?

Diavolo: **Who would dare covet my birthday gifts?**

I... I haven't thought that far ahead.

Besides, isn't there something wrong with his phrasing? He already sounds like all of them belong to him.

I look around for inspiration, and my gaze falls on Nine.

MC: Maybe Nine would want those souvenirs as toys to play with!

Nine: ?!

Nine presses his ears back in alarm.

Diavolo: **Is that so?**

Diavolo is staring at Nine, now.

Subjected to Diavolo's scrutiny, Nine looks like he'd rather be elsewhere. Just as I'm thinking that, Nine's form blurs and disappears. Only the trunk is left standing on the pavement.

Diavolo chuckles.

Diavolo: It looks like Nine has withdrawn from the competition.

Diavolo: Wise of him.

MC: ...

I'm sorry, Nine. That was too much for you to handle.

Diavolo: If there are no other challengers, I will collect my birthday gifts.

Diavolo: Barbatos.

Barbatos: Yes.

Barbatos steps forward, and picks up the truck. In a flare of a teleportation spell, Barbatos is gone.

Diavolo: If Nine wants to play, he's always welcome in the Demon Lord's Castle.

Solomon: I'm sure Nine would be delighted to hear that, once he comes out of his hiding.

Ugh, is this how a birthday gift is supposed to be presented? There is something wrong with this entire process! It didn't go according to the plan at all...

Let's at least properly say the words...!

I glance at Solomon, and he nods.

MC and Solomon: Happy birthday, Lord Diavolo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the chat "What About Us?!"


End file.
